


Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Angels and Demons Verse [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Biting, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Lace, Lace Panties, M/M, Orgasm Control, Possessive Sam Winchester, Silk Robe, Smut, can ya blame me, so I have a slight feminization kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Sam works through his anger of Dean getting hurt. By putting his own marks on Dean.





	Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* so I finished this but now I just got promoted for a multi chapter and honestly... looks like those other wips are gonna have to wait waaaaay longer than planned  
> All mistakes are mine and an extra apology if there are tense changes *winces* I know!! I’m sorry! But google docs for some fucking reason kept wanting to switch to present tense and I was all ? NO! PAST TENSE! HUSH!

Dean shifted, unable to hold back his moan. “Sammy, please…”

Sam hummed. His hand didn’t stop its slow, torturous drag over Dean’s cock. His nails dragged over the lace wrapped tightly around the base of Dean’s cock. 

Dean whimpered, trying in vain to thrust his hips up for the friction he wouldn’t find. 

“Keep your eyes open, Dean.” Sam murmured thickly, his breath a hot puff fanning Dean’s ear. With great difficulty, Dean dragged his gaze back to meet Sam’s eyes. Through the mirror, Dean could do nothing but stare as his brother sling his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes on me, big brother.”

His breath hitching, Dean obliged. He let his head lean back further, Sam easily taking the extra weight as if Dean weighed as much as a feather. His other hand traced a slow path up the center of Dean’s torso, circling the slight indents of Dean’s straining abdominal muscles, spending ages lingering before getting to his pecs… There was an audible pause in Dean’s breath as Sam’s devious finger circled close and closer to his nipple. 

A lazy smirk tugged at the edges of Sam’s lips when he saw a pulse of precome ooze out of Dean’s slit through the mirror. His finger stopping only centimeters away from Dean’s nipple, his right hand paused in its ministrations of gentle stroking. Instead, he dragged a nail over Dean’s slit, gathering the precome onto his finger. 

Dean gasped, cock jerking as his hips stuttered in Sam’s hold. His arms, locked above and backwards around Sam’s neck, tightened as his biceps flexed. Sam, unworried of the threat of being choked, greedily took in the flex of his brother’s muscles through the mirror. His brother’s pale skin, covered in freckles and sweat, the hellhound scars a stark contrast… 

Sam bent his head down, attached his mouth to Dean’s neck, and  _ sucked,  _ at the same time his right hand pressed Dean’s precome to his hole. 

Keening, Dean bucked wildly, head thrashing to the other side. He was easily giving Sam more access to mark and stake his claim on Dean’s shoulder and neck. Sam didn’t let it pass, taking it up to cover every inch available under his mouth in bright, blooming bruises. As his brother unraveled in his hold, Sam rubbed around the edges of Dean’s hole, before pushing in. 

Dean howled. Sam spared a thought to be grateful of his soundproofed room. 

He let go of the flesh he was suckling at, the action creating a loud, wet noise. “Keep looking,” Sam warned, when Dean’s eyes started to flutter closed. “Keep looking.” Raising his head, he trailed a tongue along the edges of Dean’s ear, before biting down on Dean’s earlobe. 

With a muffled cry, Dean went absolutely loose limbed on Sam. His legs were shaking under him, threatening to collapse, but Sam held strong. Pushing his finger into Dean’s heat, he finally pinched Dean’s nipple, twisting it between his fingers and flicking it. When Dean started to lean forward, about to bend in half, that’s when Sam let go of Dean’s nipple, bringing his arm around Dean’s waist, and pulling him close. 

Dean let out a sob, head falling back against Sam’s shoulder. “Sammy, please, please,” he mumbled. For all that he somehow managed to maintain eye contact through the mirror, Sam could see that his brother wasn’t exactly seeing him anymore. 

“Please what?” He murmured back, thrusting his finger in and out in the same slow movement he’d been stroking Dean’s cock earlier.

“T-touch me, please, Sammy?”

Heat erupted in Sam’s gut at his brother’s childlike plea. Unbidden, his own hip bucked, his cock rubbing between Dean’s asscheeks. “I am touching you though, De.” Pressing his fingers into Dean’s flesh, he relished in the thought of leaving bruises of his fingertips littering Dean’s torso. Sam would be damned if he was going to be outdone by a fucking hound, especially one that belonged to Crowley. “See, I’ve got my arm around you,” he tightened his arm by an almost imperceptible margin. Dean gasped anyway. “I’ve got my fingers deep inside you,” he let his voice lower more, a gravel whisper deep as sin in Dean’s ear as he pushed another finger alongside the first, loosening Dean up. “What more do you want, De?”

Dean groaned. Raising his head, he slammed it back onto Sam’s shoulder with no small amounts of frustration. Sam chuckled. Purposefully, he loosened the arm around Dean’s torso, only so that he could drag the silk sleeve of his robe torturously over Dean’s abused nipple. Dean’s head raised again. Instead of slamming back down, however, his head practically dropped like a puppet’s string cut short.

Sam chuckled. He knew exactly what his brother meant, what he wanted. But he also knew that Dean, unable to feel the amount of flesh he genuinely wanted to due to the robe Sam was wearing, was most likely reconsidering the choices he’d made when coherent.

“Y-you, Sammy.” Dean eventually whispered. He hasn’t responded for so long, Sam had been starting to think he wouldn’t. Even then, the answer was a bit unnecessary. Because Sam was already going to give everything his brother wanted… just not in the way Dean thought. 

“I gotcha brother,” he pulled his fingers free from Dean’s hole. Barely prepped, Dean was still tight and far from being properly loosened like he should. But Sam wanted his brother to feel it, dammit. For days after today, anytime he moved, Sam wanted Dean to be able to only think of him. Of Sam only, and not those wretched hounds leaving their marks deep and wrong on his Dean. 

He pulled his robe aside only far enough to slip out his cock. Giving it a couple of customary tugs, he pressed it against Dean’s opening. 

“Here you go, De.” Sam said, mouth so close to Dean’s ear his lips were brushing against the soft, reddened flesh. “You’ve got me.” Sure and steady, Sam pushed in. 

Dean gasped, and for a long moment, that was the only sound he emitted. Frozen except for the tiny tremors that overtook his body, so minute had Sam not been watching, his mouth was open in a silent ‘o’ as Sam bottomed out in one thrust. 

He gave his brother a couple of seconds to adjust. The sound of Sam’s breathing, roughly controlled was a harsh sensation on Dean’s over sensitized flesh. And then Sam started fucking his brother. Balls slapping Dean’s ass with each thrust, Sam brought his right hand up, up, up until he was grabbing Dean’s chin mercilessly, twisting his head to the side. They finally looked into each other’s eyes directly, the mirror now forgotten in front of them. 

“You’re mine.” Sam snarled against Dean’s lax mouth. “Mine.” Dean has barely gotten a hummed response out before Sam was pressing his lips against Dean’s, their teeth clacking before Sam shifted. Tongue forcing Dean’s into a submission Dean has already given, he tongue fucked Dean with the same roughness of his thrusts. 

“Who do you belong to?” Sam growled when he finally pulled apart, his fingers clamped right on Dean’s jaw. There were certainly going to be bruises there later, and much harder to explain. Dean would brush it off without causing too much suspicion, Sam knew he would. “Who do you belong to?” He almost yelled in Dean’s face. 

“You,” Dean moaned, and like a rope that snapped, Dean regained his voice. He keened as Sam fucked into him again, hitting his prostate spot on. “You, you, you, you,  _ you,”  _ Dean’s subsequent hell was muffled as Sam slammed his lips back to Dean’s. Letting his chin go, his hand trailed back down. With one swift movement, he was tugging the lace free from Dean’s dick. He barely had to lay a hand on Dean’s throbbing length before Dean was coming with a howl.

Feeling Dean’s muscles squeeze and massage Sam’s cock, it only took a couple of extra thrusts against Dean’s poor prostate before he came as well. He continued to move his hips, pushing his seed deep inside Dean.

“Sammy…” 

Breathing heavily, Sam lifted his head, and after blinking stupidly for a couple of times, he managed to bring himself back together. Gentle, he eased Dean’s arms free from around his neck, rubbing at the undoubtedly stressed muscle with an apologetic murmur of wordless noise. Dean was pliant in his arms, only seconds away from becoming an unmoving puddle on the ground. With that in mind, he guided Dean down onto the plush thick rug. His hand absently batted around until he felt a cloth — pulling it close revealed it to be Dean’s lace panties that he’d been wearing earlier. With no remorse, he wiped Dean’s come off his hand, using the flimsy fabric to wipe Dean clean as well. 

Dean protested, his eyes already closed as he grumbled incoherently. Smiling, Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. Letting the panties drop to the ground, he pulled his brother closer, nuzzling the bruises that were already starting to become vibrant on his shoulder. 

“Mine.” He whispered. Dean hummed, pleased. He was already half asleep as Sam tightened his arms around Dean’s torso.

* * *

 

Later, much later, Sam found himself lying in the center of his bed. Naked as the day he was born, he remain unbothered by it, too focused on the papers in front of him. 

Beside him, Dean shifted lazily. His legs were slung over Sam’s and he was practically sprawled out on the bed, taking up majority of the space. But Sam was far from complaining. In fact, every time he glanced to his side, the sight of his brother enjoying the silk rub against his own bruised skin was far too delectable in Sam’s mind. 

“—So Lilith dropping by did have some uses after all.” Dean continued. Sam wasn’t ashamed to say he hadn’t been paying attention to Dean’s words. Anyone who could pay attention to his brother when he looked like this were clearly blind. Then again, if they even got to see him like this, if they didn’t pay attention, Sam would happily blinden them himself. With his bare hands.

“I still want that skank dead.” Sam said, gathering his thoughts to form a coherent response. At the thought of that wily bitch, it wasn’t too hard to get angry, however. Especially when Sam still had the sight of Dean’s scars right in front of him. 

“And I’m sure you’ll get to saw her head off with a century old branch and dance merrily around her corpse in circles one day.” Dean shot back casually. His eyes drifted close, mouth agape as he pressed particularly hard against the inside of his thigh. Sam didn’t remember holding Dean there, but there was no doubt that was his finger shaped bruise hidden in the shadows of Dean’s inner thighs. 

His cock twitched painfully, reminding Sam again or how very much interested it would be in another round.

Ignoring it was the most stupidest and hardest thing Sam had to do, in his personal opinion. One Dean would probably share too, if Sam bothered to voice it aloud. 

Humming absently, Sam returner his gaze back to the papers. Scanning the paper, he paused when he came to a particular word. Head tilting to the side, Sam’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Naomi?” He read aloud. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Dean sighed, rolling over as he snuggled up against Sam’s side, not particularly caring that he was about to crumple one of the pages. Sam was quick to retrieve it and place it away from his brother, though he was sure Dean wasn’t too careless as to actually mess with it. “Michael’s right-hand, I guess. Informant, advisor, pick a word. She holds a lot of sway over Michael for someone who — I don’t think — isn’t even related or whatever.”

Realization dawning on Sam, he slowly nodded. “Naomi… right. Metatron mentioned her during one of the interrogation sessions.” He recalled. 

Dean’s face twisted in disgust. “Metatron? Ugh. Tell me you’re not gonna let him go afterwards.”

Frowning, Sam let his head fall to the side, resting it atop Dean’s. “Not that we were going to anyway, but why?”

Dean shuddered. “That sleezy son of a bitch… honestly, I’d have castrated him myself if it wouldn’t have given me away. Asshole is too close to Michael, takes advantage of that and—” shaking his head, Dean fell silent. But he didn’t need to say anything further anyway. Sam was already starting to get the image of what his brother was talking about. It made bile rise at the back of his throat, the urge to vomit barely held back.

“Guess I should let Azazel know to bring in the rusted scalpel next time.” Sam muttered. Technically, he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But at Dean’s satisfied smirk as he raised and twisted to straddle Sam’s hips, the papers only just escaping being absolutely crushed, Sam figured that his brother’s lengthy stamp of approval backed up Sam’s heartless decision. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Sam ever was supposed to be merciful as Morningstar. No, he saved all that heart and it’s subsequent sappiness for Dean. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback gives me life. Especially cuz post this I have no clear idea what I wanna write next.


End file.
